


The Professor and The Colonel

by tiger_moran



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 22:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_moran/pseuds/tiger_moran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Less a story and more thoughts on the nature of Moriarty and Moran's relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Professor and The Colonel

    The professor had always expected to grow bored of the colonel sooner or later; to reach a point where that unwavering loyalty and obedience became irksome in its predictability, rather than amusing. He believed perhaps that in time Moran himself would grow dull, his attractions fading (as it seems the attractions of many men’s wives do after too many years of marriage) as the colonel became perhaps too contented with the relative stability and the routine of life with the professor. Yet to the contrary he has found Moran’s devotion ever more endearing as time has passed, and Moran has not yet lost the spark that first drew Moriarty to him. He remains obedient and devoted, yes, but still questioning, not blindly accepting of orders, nor complacent about his station. There is still too that delightful friction with him in their private life that still makes him endlessly… _interesting_.

     Coupled with this is the realisation that Moriarty, more than ever, simply enjoys Moran’s company – at mealtimes; on long journeys; at the theatre or opera house; in bed - where once he would always have preferred solitude. There is something comforting about the warmth and weight of the colonel’s form beside him at night; something innately pleasurable about Moran’s presence on a long train ride (even if he passes much of the time in complaining or filling the air with his abominable cigarette smoke). At the theatre or opera too Moriarty has come to find the touch of Moran’s hand in his oddly appealing, somehow thrilling even in its simplicity and an act that seems to enhance the performance.

    Moriarty of course always expected Moran to grow bored with _him_ also, and he is quietly surprised that the colonel, if anything, seems to care for him more than ever. Moran loves him – Moriarty is not a romantic man but neither is he a fool nor so naïve that he cannot grasp this. Likely he loves Moriarty in ways Moriarty himself is incapable of returning in kind but with the professor’s respect and deep affection towards him and the level of trust he places in his right hand man, Moran does not, it seems, feel that his regard goes unreciprocated. As the years have passed then it appears that Moran’s love for him has only strengthened, even though he is the one person to know truly what the professor is capable of, and the only one to see the worst of the black moods that seize hold of him at times. He has remained by Moriarty’s side professionally _and_ privately. He may in truth be unable to run from Moriarty – Moran knows that; he knows far too much of the professor’s criminal nature and deeds for Moriarty to ever allow him to walk away – but it is not from fear that Moran stays.

    Moran isn’t afraid of him – Moriarty has never believed that to be the case, despite the occasional signs of unease or reluctance the colonel has displayed during some of their games. Nor would he desire Moran’s fear – that would be far too boring and far too unpleasant. He dominates Moran in every sense but Moran is still a formidable personality, one who relishes the professor’s control and discipline rather than being cowed by it. It is certainly not fear that Moriarty sees in Moran’s cool blue eyes when Moran looks at him across the breakfast table, or glances at him (giving him a faintly cocky smile) in their box at the opera, or when the colonel curls into his embrace after their most private diversions.

    On occasion Moriarty hears rumours about their relationship, not always that it is illegal and improper, but that the conniving colonel (a man who drove his own father to disinherit him) is fleecing the kindly but lonely and rather vulnerable professor, only pretending to care for him to extract funds from him, or that Moran has settled into a kind of comfortable existence where he is paid extortionate amounts for very little on account of the professor’s gullibility. Moran however is no kept man and Moriarty is no great philanthropist either, not much given to charity or pity.

     Most people of course do not know the full extent of what the colonel does for Moriarty for many such acts are highly illegal (far, _far_ worse than sodomy) but he works hard to earn his keep. He has taken on tasks as varied as offering advice on Moriarty’s lectures and managing the myriad of major and minor players who work for Moriarty; he has been a courier and a killer for the professor, transporting messages or items that Moriarty can entrust to none other, and removing problematic foes or treacherous employees.

    Sometimes Moriarty thinks that Moran works _too_ hard (an accusation Moran has also thrown at him from time to time – it seems in this regard at least they match). There are times when Moran has been tasked to hunt down a particular person, say to discover who a traitor in their ranks is, or just who is behind certain communications threatening to reveal their nefarious deeds to the police. Then he is often gone for days, becoming utterly relentless in his pursuit and returning home – perhaps almost at the point of collapse from exhaustion - only when he has run his quarry down.

    This week was one such week. Moran was gone for three days, returning finally triumphant but with a bone-deep weariness about him that unnerved even Moriarty. Three days of hunting a man through the worst of London’s rookeries without proper food or rest left him stinking and half-starved as well as exhausted. Moriarty quickly despatched him to the bathroom to soak away the filth that clung to him, then to the dining room, where Moran devoured the supper that the cook was able to put together for him at the late hour. Curious as he may be about Moran’s latest exploits, Moriarty forced him to defer detailed explanations until the morning though. It will keep.

    Now Moran lies in their bed, clean, fed and contented. His eyes are closed but Moriarty knows that he is not yet sleeping, in spite of his fatigue. He stirs when the professor slips under the covers beside him, turning over to face him. Still his eyes are closed as he presses himself to Moriarty.

     “James,” he murmurs, his face pressed to the professor’s throat.

     “Hush pet, go to sleep,” Moriarty instructs, and Moran will, and does, perhaps unaware of the brief kiss his lover presses to his forehead or perhaps only aware of it at the deepest level of consciousness.

     The professor though remains awake for a time, listening to Moran’s soft, rhythmic breathing as he sleeps beside him, solid and warm. His lover; his pet; his Sebastian – tangible proof of things Moriarty once thought impossible: that someone whose mind is not like his could consistently fascinate him more than the most brilliant logicians, and that he is capable of caring about another being _almost_ as much as he cares for himself. This may not be romantic love he feels but it is something so precariously close to it as to be almost indistinguishable from it and _that_ is perhaps the most astonishing thing of all: he no longer cares if nobody could tell the difference.


End file.
